


The Days Go By

by lorb



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Death, Heavy Angst, This is definitely grimmons, but much more focused on sarge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:33:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorb/pseuds/lorb
Summary: You’re not supposed to go before those you love, not when you’re an old man who has lived his life at the edge of danger and ridiculousness and they were two young men, lives far ahead of them.





	The Days Go By

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by this post by tumblr user c-orrin! Who had no idea I was doing this but shit, I had to.  
> http://c-orrin.tumblr.com/post/177761059439/hey-guys-i-just-thought-about-if-grif-and-simmons

Here is the link to the [post!](http://c-orrin.tumblr.com/post/177761059439/hey-guys-i-just-thought-about-if-grif-and-simmons)

Day 4:

They asked Sarge what they should do with them. He didn’t have an answer. Hell, he didn’t have an answer the first time he asked himself what to do with these boys. He knew military life, he knew the military type. Simmons and Grif weren’t the first he had lead, but they were the first of their kind. Simmons eager to please but an awful, spineless soldier, and Grif a whip smart jackass who hadn’t gotten the message he was supposed to be a soldier. Grif had fought nonstop, with no end in sight.

And Sarge? He had fought back. Grif had sworn that his CO hated him, and for all intents and purposes, Sarge acted like he did. But deep down, he just wanted to get Grif in some sort of line. If he was going to get out of the service, he would have something of pride to tell his family.

Simmons was simple. Sarge knew he should have pushed him harder, taught him how to use that big brain rattling around in his skull, but it was so simple. Simmons would not fight. Simmons would listen unquestionably. Simmons would hop in front of a bullet in a goddamn heartbeat.

They fell into routines and Sarge stopped asking what he would do with them. He never considered to ask what he would do without them.

Sarge took the ashes. He parceled them out, giving a little to Kai who wanted to take her brother home to rest in the ocean. He sent a little back to Earth to Mrs Simmons who he hoped would want to know what had happened to her son. And he took the rest and combined them into one eternal collection until you couldn’t tell where Grif started and Simmons began, just like always.

  


Day 46:

Doctor Grey told Sarge that it’s ok to miss his team, but that he needs to find a constructive outlet to release some of the pain. Doctor Grey told Sarge that bottling his anger will only make him feel worse in a weeks time. Doctor Grey told Sarge that sometimes exercise can help. Doctor Grey told Sarge that she’s always available to talk. Doctor Grey suggested taking note of his meals to ensure he’s eating. Doctor Grey told Sarge losing one person is very hard, losing both is devastating. Doctor Grey told Sarge- Sarge, are you listening? Sarge I don’t believe you’re coping very well and it’s extremely unhealthy to keep pushing everything deeper and de-

Sarge left Doctor Grey’s office.

Sarge did not remember any of her advice when he opened the liquor cabinet that night.

 

Day 18:

Sarge said their names today and waited for a response that never came.

 

Day 60:

Sarge ignored a call from Donut, for the fiftieth time since the incident. He wasn’t trying to push Donut away, he was trying to pull himself away from the only soldier he had left. If he failed Grif and Simmons, he would probably fail Donut too.

 

Day 39:

Lopez brought a stranger into Sarge’s home to translate for him. Sarge stared glassy eyed at the robot while the young latino boy (a soldier maybe nineteen years old, too young to be in a useless war, so lucky to have gotten out with his life. Simmons had been nineteen, hadn’t he? Or maybe twenty-one by the time he had gotten to Sarge. It all ran together. Either way he was far too young to have been caught up in that awful mess. He had been far too young at twenty-seven when it was all stolen away) who translated.

He had said, “Sargento, I need to take some time away. I have no purpose here. I can’t die just because they did. I will be working as a mechanic for the federation. When you need me, you can find me.”

Sarge watched him leave. He opened the liquor cabinet and sat at an empty table.

 

Day 6:

Sarge held the ashes in his hands and knew that he could let them go at any time, right through his fingers all over again.

 

Day 86:

Sarge confirmed his travel plans to return to Blood Gulch. One ticket, one stop.

Washington had tried to stop him. Caboose and Tucker too. Washington giving genuine reasons to stay, Caboose and Tucker yelling he couldn’t go. Carolina allowed Epsilon one lengthy complaint before announcing that Sarge could go wherever he wanted. She encouraged him to do what he had to do. Tucker chased after her, telling her it wasn’t time for her “broken past, freelancer, bullshit.”

Sarge went home to pack up all of his belongings.

 

Day 24:

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sarge tried today.

At least he thought so with the whiskey bottle pressed against his lips in the same place he woke up that morning.

 

Day 2:

You’re not supposed to go before those you love, not when you’re an old man who has lived his life at the edge of danger and ridiculousness and they were two young men, lives far ahead of them.

You’re not supposed to wake up with the weight of their body haunting your chest like a weight that won’t ever let up.

You’re not supposed to be privy to the last second confessions of love over a com radio before… before… before.

 

Day 209:

Sarge made it to Blood Gulch today.

He sat in the canyon.

He opened the bag of ashes.

He let the wind carry away his boys.

He took off his helmet.

He cried.

 

Day 0:

They couldn’t get Simmons’ blood off his visor. Everyone said they’ll get him another helmet, as though that’s why he was frozen with the damn thing in his hands and yelling at anyone who tried to take it from him.

Sarge imagined that if he put it back on, Grif’s voice would come back to life and bounce around his head one last time. The way Sarge and everyone else had heard the way he screamed Simmons’ name as Simmons dove in front of Sarge to take the shot to his neck. The way his voice had caught with tears and he whimpered the two syllables, like a soft whisper in his ear rather than through the voice mechanisms inside their armor.

Sarge felt Simmons collapse on top of him. He started to shift Simmons’ mostly limp body off his own, with the tenderness of a father holding his infant child for the first time, when he saw how Grif veered hard. He had stumbled over his feet to try to get to Simmons. Grif’s voice was still ringing in his ears.

“It’ll be ok, buddy, just hang on! Simmons, Simmons? Dick? Just hang-” And then he grunted, shot in the side as he tried to give one final comfort. “Fuck, it’s ok. We’ll be ok, Simmons.” But there had been so much blood. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… Sims? I’m not so sure… fuck, shit, damn.” Grif went down about six feet away, staring at his side as blood cascaded down his armor. “Sims? Dick? I’m sorry. I love you, I know you love me too.” Grif had kept dragging himself closer, letting out yelps of pain, but Sarge knew. He had felt the tension leave Simmons’ body just before Grif’s final confession.

When it was all said and done (space pirates defeated, enemy death number innumerable, personal casualty costs, impossible to measure) Sarge stared through the crimson stain at how Grif’s hand reached out for Simmons, just out of reach. Someone he didn’t know moved their bodies. Someone he thought he maybe knew ushered him off the battlefield.

People around him were celebrating. Sarge was trying to figure out why.

 

Day 215:

Sarge laid down in the canyon, food stores untouched and liquor long gone. Across his hazy vision, he watched a ship touch down. An assortment of colored soldiers piled out and ran at breakneck speed. Sarge smiled and closed his eyes.

 

The canyon is silent.

The canyon is empty.

When Sarge opens his eyes, a maroon gloved hand reaches out to him, an orange figure beyond it.

“How was your journey, sir?” 

**Author's Note:**

> So angst makes me feel better, sorry to make y'all suffer buuuuuuuuuuuut....
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic I highly highly reccomend Ice Cream Social by darwinsdonut because Sarge angst in the building tonight (we weirdly wrote our fics separately but they have an eerily similar theme). Its incredible. READ IT.


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